Once Upon A Monster (aka Beowulf Sings The Blues)
by Save Fearow
Summary: Ickis needs to sleep, but he also needs a story with a happy ending. Father/son fluff because there was none for this fandom before.


Once Upon A Monster (aka Beowulf Sings The Blues)

an Aaaah! Real Monsters fanfic

by Save Fearow

Author's Note: A continuation of a certain drabble because the world needs more father/child bonding fluff. And as long as we're talking fathers, a special shout-out goes to J. M. Fischer who never let me win at chess (how else would I learn?), could spin a dreidel balanced on his index finger, mimicked all the Star Wars voices (even Threepio) and encouraged me to take up music. I miss you daddy, and I always will.

Slickis looked upon the dilapated house with fondness. "It's good to be home at the end of the day. Ickis, you run on up to bed-" he began.

"I'b not tired! I wad'a spend more time wif you! Let's play Gris-dak or pragtice loobin' or ahchoo!" Ickis' suggestions were broken by a sneezing fit.

"Ickis, you're not well. Your fur is blue, you sound stuffed up, and you haven't stopped sneezing since I scooped you out of that pond." Slickis patiently stated.

"Dat's a phase, meads I'm growin' up or sub'thig." Ickis petulantly insisted.

"A phase called being sick. Very common, doesn't last long, go to bed." Slickis steamrollered all arguments. Ickis tried to stare him down, unsuccessfully. With an exaggerated sigh, he tromped slowly upstairs. "Faster than that, son. Don't make me carry you, because I will." vowed Slickis.

"I'b not a bonsty." Ickis meekly protested.

"Bonstys move quicker than that, I know." Slickis observed. Ickis flicked his ears in annoyance, but his pace rapidly increased as he trudged into the bedroom. "There, that wasn't so bad. You'll be nice and warm now, under the blankets." Slickis remarked.

Ickis didn't want to admit it, but the blankets did feel very comforting, and this bed was alot nicer and roomier than the one he had back at the Academy's dorms. "Okay, Dad. I'b in bed." he muttered. The unspoken corollary was "and I'm not asleep."

Slickis sighed. Of course Ickis was going to be difficult tonight. "Good. I'm sure I've got some cough syrup around here somewhere, you wait there and I'll get it." instructed Slickis. Ickis nodded and flashed his most cherubic grin. As soon as his dad was out of sight, he started poking around under the bed. He always knew to leave a flashlight under the loose floorboard. He was sure he could camoflauge it under the covers just as effectively. All he had to do was play it cool.

"Fide ebry'thig okay?" Ickis called out.

Slickis strode confidently back into the room. "Yup. Let's trade, you give me that flashlight and I'll give you your medicine." Slickis announced.

Ickis scowled. "Dat's not a fair twade. Whateber habbened to 'quiblent exchadge?" Ickis whined.

"That's not part of my rules." Slickis told him. "When you have your own house and your own family, you can set the rules. Within reason." he amended.

Ickis sneezed. Dad always thought he was so smart, as if he could anticipate whatever his son planned. Maybe someday he'd set the most awesome grown-up rules, ever. The kind where bonstys never had to do chores to earn toenails, bedtime was always optional, and sludge-pops were the daily dessert. None of that balanced-nutrition-nonsense where you had tin cans for the mineral content and got your protein from live maggots. And he certainly wouldn't make anyone drink THIS foul concoction. What did doctors believe, that you could suppress a cough by burning a hole through the roof of the offending monster's mouth? Ickis swallowed it, and made a frustrated, gagging sound.

"You'll thank me in the morning." predicted Slickis.

"No way!" Ickis retorted.

"Yes way!" Slickis countered. He ruffled his son's fur affectionately. Ickis responded by smoothing it back down with furious swipes. "Stop pouting, son.Y'know you can't always change things you don't like, but that doesn't mean you have to dwell on bad circumstances, either. Your life can always get better." Slickis persisted.

It was easy to say such optimistic statements, when you were already famous and respected. When you spent most of your days being looked down upon, it was only natural that you'd start feeling down, too. "I -hade- my life." mumbled Ickis.

"Whaaat? But I'm part of your life, and you couldn't possibly hate me!" Slickis exclaimed. Ickis had never seen his father pretend to be so upset, complete with trembling lip and soulful eyes. Slickis was very good at pulling off the most frightening and intimidating expressions, but he couldn't quite manage to look properly chagrined.

Ickis snickered. "I don't hade -you-. You trad-scend a lousy chil'hood." Ickis clarified.

"It can't be that horrible. You get to go a terrific school, have a ton of great scares, make lots of friends, childhood's a blast." declared Slickis.

Maybe Slickis' childhood could be described that way, but those weren't the adjectives Ickis would have chosen to talk about his Academy days. But he didn't have the heart to correct his father. "Krub and Oblida are da best par' of school." he allowed.

"See? Lots to look forward to." Slickis claimed. "I'm sure the three of you will have plenty of stories to tell each other when you get back."

"Maybe if subody hadn'ta took my flashlide." he accused.

"It wasn't enough light to read by, anyway." Slickis told him. He noted the annoyed expression on his son's face. "If you want a story that badly, I'll tell you one." Slickis added.

Ickis' ears perked up. "Beowulf?" he suggested.

"Son, that story takes forever. And you need your rest." Slickis indicated.

Ickis frowned. "It's not a guhd stowy, adyway. Gre'del goes through so buch grief, ahchoo an' he's not eben alibe for da endin'." complained Ickis.

"That's just how the humans told it, because they thought it would sell more copies." lied Slickis. "Really, Grendel beat him handily. Three quick jabs- boom, boom, boom!- and that human was done for."

Ickis didn't seem to buy this version of events. "Wha' habbened to the King den, an' all the uber humans?" he asked.

"Grendel beat them, too." Slickis continued. "All of Heorot was destroyed, and Grendel and his mom lived out their days peacefully, under the swamp."

"Wha' abou' da nice humans?" wondered Ickis.

Oh jeez. What was that s'posed to mean? Slickis hoped his son wasn't developing a fever on top of everything else. "Um, the nice humans were spared. I guess they built an underwater temple for them or something. It was a long, long time ago. Details are sketchy." Slickis bluffed.

"Ultra Monsta cad buil' a temp'a. He cad do adything." Ickis professed.

Superheroes, was that what the kids were into these days? Slickis worried he might be getting a little out-of-touch. "I'm sure he was the lead architect and planner." he blithely commented.

"Ad he made cerd'en eb'ry Wensday was blues night!" Ickis triumphantly announced.

The non sequitur caught Slickis a bit off-guard. "I didn't know you listened to that! Y'know, your mother and I had our honeymoon in Baton Rouge, one of the earliest blues capitals. They have this big ol' cathedral that was one of the most primo scaring-spots. We frightened Mr. Dakin himself, and he had to leave the interior detailing unfinished. Claimed there were other projects, but between you and me, he didn't want to come back while WE were around. Squelia felt we should have taken it easy on him, but we were young, and I s'pose I wanted to show off for her a little." Slickis blushed at the memory. "Mercy, the things we did back then... all those warm nights on the bayou, eating cajun crickets, dancing in the moonlight while the humans played guitar... Those musicians were just starting to form the fundamentals, the genre didn't fully coalesce for another couple decades, 'bout the time you were born is really when it became a phenomenon."

Ickis loved the sound of that. "Humans have da bes' music. Da Gro'ble just tells us to screab an' wail, withou' ady reason! Y'need to sed up a dribin rhythum." He coughed, then resumed his enthusiastic spiel. "I bin pragticing, dere's a tonic note, and den the sub-dom'nint and the dom'nint, ahchoo an' you strig it togedder, mos'ly id's twelb-bars, subtimes dey play aroun' wid' da strugture. Da Gro'ble don't know adythig abou' it since I bin doin' it on'na side."

Well, that accounted for most of those unexcused absences the Gromble had raged about this past semester. Slickis knew schoolwork came first, but he couldn't fault his son for wanting to break away from the Gromble's tone-deaf tutelage. "That's nice, Ickis. Jus' don't overdo it. Even the greatest monsters can wear themselves out if they take on too many side-projects." he cautioned.

"I won'd get worn out. I'b not eben tired!" yawned Ickis.

"You're kidding me! I'm tired, and I'm not the one who's sick. I'm half-tempted to cancel all my scheduled appearances tomorrow and jus' sleep in. What a shame I don't have a son who's willing to relax with me." he stated. "Who knows, maybe the speeches at the scare symposium will be shorter this year. I heard they hired Balook, the Grand Faloon to open but he's probly nowhere near as bad as they say..."

"Yes he is! Don' go, you'll -hade- it. Stay here!" Ickis begged. "I cad be a relaxin' son, I probise! Jus' wadge me!" He fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was snoring softly.

Slickis smiled and pulled the blankets a little tighter around Ickis. "I always do." he whispered. "G'night son. I love you."

~~~The End.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! Remember to budget your time between leaving a review and being with your loved ones (hint: the loved ones will always be more important). Take care you don't get worn out... zzzz...


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